If 

^ 

JO 


O 


IRLF 


SB    E7 


GIFT  OF 


A  WOMAN  FREE 

AND 

OTHER  POEMS 


3C43U 


A 

WOMAN     REE 

AND 

OTHER     OEMS 
RUTH  LA.PRADE 


Introduction  bj>  I  <1  ^1  I 

EDWIN  MARKHAM 


PublisKed  b>) 

J.  F.  ROWNT  PRESS 

Los  Angeles,  Cal. 


Copyrighted  1917 

b5> 
J.  F.  ROWNY  PRESS 

Los  Angeles 


TO  MY  MOTHER  AND  FATHER 

TO 

RESIN  A.  AND  MILA  TUPPER  MAYNARD 

AND  TO  YOU,  COMRADE, 

WHOEVER  YOU  ARE. 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 

THE  MIGHTY  REBEL 

DEDICATED  TO  THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE 

I  am  the  Rebel — the  mighty  Rebel ! 
My  soul  has  burst  its  bonds  with  love. 
In  me  is  all  power,  all  strength ; 

In  me  is  that/  which  is  unconquerable  but  which  con 
quers  all ; 

In  me  the  dream  of  beauty ; 
In  me  the  perfect  faith. 

I  am  the  Rebel — the  mighty  Rebel ! 

I  am  he  who  hopes  all,  dares  all,  wins  all. 

I  am  the  Lover  of  men. 

I  will  shake  down  every  king  from  off  his  throne ; 

I  will  humble  every  empire  to  the  dust. 

The  chains  of  men  I  will  break  asunder ; 

The  prison  doors  I  will  fling  wide. 

The  outgrown  creeds  and  laws  I  cast  aside. 

The  implements  of  war  and  death  I  burn  up  with  the 

passion  of  my  love. 
Man  shall  be  free — 
He  shall  be  free  at  last ! 

I  am  the  Rebel — the  mighty  Rebel ! 

Over  the  world  I  hurl  my  song — and  well  may  the 

Masters  tremble ! 

Thruout  all  time  they  sought  to  bind  me ; 
They  hounded  me  and  threatened ; 
They  builded  for  me  prisons ; 
They  crucified  my  body ; 
But  I  was  far  above  it; 
My  soul  they  could  not  touch. 
The  earth  is  fertile  with  my  blood — 
And  from  it  shall  spring  Freedom ! 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 

I  am  the  Rebel — the  mighty  Rebel! 

Destructive  and  constructive — both  am  I. 

With  the  potent  passion  of  my  love  I  burn  all  evil, 

ignorance,  and  lust; 
All  tyranny  and  greed  to  ashes  turn. 
Beneath  the  mighty  passion  of  my  love 
The  souls  of  men  burst  thru  the  husks 
And  dare ! — 

Dare  to  be  free,  to  know,  to  love,  to  live — 
Dare  to  be  men 
After  centuries  of  pain. 

I  am  the  Rebel — the  mighty  Rebel ! 

I  am  the  builder  of  the  world ! 

I  build  with  courage  and  with  strength; 

I  build  with  beauty  and  with  love ; 

I  build  the  Dream  into  the  hearts  of  men ; 

I  build  the  great  new  world  of  Brotherhood ; 

The  world  where  poverty  is  not, 

The  world  that  has  forgotten  war  and  greed, 

The  world  where  every  soul  shall  live  its  fullest  love 

Unhampered  and  unbound — 

The  world  of  freedom  and  of  joy. 

I  am  the  Rebel — the  mighty  Rebel ! 
I  am  the  Lover  of  men ! 


CONTENTS 

A  WORD  AT  THE  BEGINNING — EDWIN  MARKHAM  9 

A  WOMAN  FREE,  THE  SONG  OF                 -         -  11 

I  HAVE  LOVED -         -         -         -         -         -  14 

I  AM  A  WOMAN  AND  I  LOVE 16 

WTE  CAN  NOT  MOUNT  ALONE             -         -         -  17 

To  MY  FRIENDS             -         -         -         -         -  18 

A  MESSAGE 19 

To  MY  COMRADE  WHO  KNOWS  ALL  THINGS  20 

BEAUTIFUL  FACE 22 

BECAUSE  YOUR  BEAUTY  Is      -         -         -         -  23 

YOUR  GREAT  WHITE  SOUL        -         -         -         -  24 

WHERE  THE  FAIRIES  LIVE  24 

THE  PURPLE  WISTARIA      -         -         -         -         -  25 

MY  HEART  EXPANDS  AS  IT  REACHES  TO  ENFOLD  26 

TOGETHER 26 

IT  Is  NOT  POSSIBLE  TO  LOVE  Too  MUCH          -  27 

SALUTATION  TO  THE  DAY           -         -         -         -  29 

A  SONG 29 

I  WILL  FADE  INTO  A  STAR         -         -         -         -  30 

To  WALT  WHITMAN 31 

MY  SOUL  Is  SINGING  WITH  THE  STARS         -         -  32 

MY  COMMANDMENT        -----  32 

IN  THE  ABSENCE  OF  YOUR  LOVE          -         -         -  33 

HEART-BREAK          ------  33 

THE  RUNNER              34 

WISDOM 35 

I  GAZE  UPON  THE  HILLS           -         -         -         -  36 

I  CAN  NOT  LINGER  BY  THE  ROAD           -         -  36 

IN  THE  END 37 

LOVE 37 

I  SAID  TO  THE  DRY  PROFESSOR     -         -         -         -  38 

THE  PAST 38 

SOLIDARITY         ------         -  39 

FORGET 39 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'} 

A  SONG  OF  THE  EARTH 40 

THE  GLORY  OF  FATHERHOOD  42 

SING  ON 42 

I  SING  THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  BODY  43 

To  MY  LOVER            -         -         -         -         -         -  44 

CAGED              45 

THE  LOST  JOY 47 

AN  ANSWER 48 

THE  SHADOW     -..-..-49 

THE  WHITE  HOPE 52 

ABANDONMENT 53 

THE  TREE  THAT  WITHHELD  ITS  FRUIT          -  53 

WHO  WILL  UNDERSTAND*?         -         -         -         -  54 

THE  SERPENT        ......  54 

SONG  OF  LIBERTY 55 

WHEN  I  AM  DEAD 57 

LIGHT  Is 58 

UNFINISHED 58 

THE  CROSS 59 

THERE  WAS  A  MAN        .....  59 

AND  THEN 60 

THE  SLAVE    -.--..-61 

A  PANE  OF  GLASS 61 

THE  SEA 62 

THE  MAN  AND  THE  MIRROR        -         -         -         -  62 

THE  ROSE  BUSH     ------  63 

THE  WOMAN  BY  THE  SEA                                      -  64 

THE  NIGHT 65 

THE  POT  THAT  HAD  BEEN  MARRED           -         -  65 

THE  WHITE  FLOWER      -----  66 

THE  PRICE 66 

LAW .67 

THE  FLOWER  OF  LOVE 68 

WHERE  THE  SUN  SHINES  ALWAYS 

THERE  Is  A  DESERT 69 

FAITH             69 

OUT  OF  CHAOS  -         -         -         -         -         -71 


A  WORD  AT  THE  BEGINNING 

In  the  eager  pages  of  this  little  volume  we  find  .a 
spirit  deeply  touched  with  the  love  of  humanity,  a 
spirit  alive  to  all  its  raptures  and  despairs. 

These  verses  are  written  by  one  of  the  vibrant  and 
valorous  souls  of  the  Far  West,  a  young  woman  who 
is  yearning  to  help  pass  on  to  all  souls  the  beauty  of 
earth,  the  beauty  of  joy. 

Intense  sympathy  for  man  and  nature  is  the  pulse 
of  this  unpretentious,  free-verse  offering.  The  writer 
does  not  claim  to  come  with  ornamental  periods,  with 
polished  phrases.  Indeed,  she  modestly  disclaims  the 
labors  and  the  laurels  of  the  poet,  and  says  with  a 
sparkle : 

"Poets  have  carefully  carved  their  songs, 
Toiling  with  words,  phrases,  stanzas, 
'Till  all  was  finished, 
But  I  do  not  carefully  carve  my  songs, 
Toiling  with  words,  phrases,  stanzas. 
And  all  that  I  leave  is  unfinished 

That  you  shall  be  a  poet 

Finishing  each  according  to  yourself." 

So  Ruth  Le  Prade  comes  with  the  simple  speech  of 
every  day,  declaring  her  compassion  for  the  multi 
tudes,  announcing  her  contempt  of  caste  and  conven 
tionality,  affirming  her  faith  in  the  coming  of  the  great 
day  when  Love  shall  take  form  in  a  Comrade  Order, 
wherein  all  from  the  greatest  to  the  least  shall  have 
the  social  and  material  resources  for  living  a  rich  and 
abundant  life. 

These  pages  stir  with  a  trembling  earnestness,  shine 
with  a  vivid  fire  of  faith.  May  they  go  forth  to  kindle 
hearths,  to  kindle  hearts. 

New  Wetf  Brighton,  N.Y. 
1916 


THE  SONG  OF  A  WOMAN  FREE 

I  am  a  woman  free.     My  song 

Flows  from  my  soul  with  pure  and  joyful  strength. 

It  shall  be  heard  through  all  the  noise  of  things — 

A  song  of  joy  where  songs  of  joy  were  not. 

My  sister  singers,  singing  in  the  past, 

Sang  songs  of  melody  but  not  of  joy — 

For  woman's  name  was  Sorrow,  and  the  slave 

Is  never  joyful  tho  he  smiles. 

I  am  a  woman  free.    Too  long 

I  was  held  captive  in  the  dust.     Too  long 

My  soul  was  surfeited  with  toil  or  ease 

And  rotted  as  the  plaything  of  a  slave. 

I  am  a  woman  free  at  last 

After  the  crumbling  centuries  of  time. 

Free  to  achieve  and  understand ; 

Free  to  become  and  live. 

I  am  a  woman  free.    With  face 

Turned  toward  the  sun,  I  am  advancing 

Toward  love  that  is  not  lust, 

Toward  work  that  is  not  pain, 

Toward  home  which  is  the  world, 

Toward  motherhood  which  is  not  forced, 

And  toward  the  man  who  also  must  be  free. 


11 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'} 

With  face  turned  toward  the  sun, 

Strong  and  radiant-limbed, 

I  advance,  singing, 

And  my  song  is  as  free 

As  the  soul  from  which  it  flows. 

I  advance  toward  that  which  is,  but  was  not; 

Toward  that  which  is  not,  but  is  yet  to  be. 

I,  the  free  woman,  advance  singing, 

And  with  face  turned  toward  the  sun. 

Let  Ignorance  and  Tyranny 

Tremble  at  the  sound  of  my  feet. 


I  am  a  woman  free. 

Singing  the  song  of  joy, 

Strong  and  radiant-limbed, 

I  advance  toward  the  work  which  waits  for  me, 

The  joyful  work  out  in  my  home  the  world ; 

And  toward  the  man  who  is  my  mate. 

Oh  I  am  strong  and  magnetic — 

I  have  not  wasted  myself  in  sensuality; 

And  equally  strong  and  magnetic 

Is  the  man  who  is  my  mate. 

For  the  glory  of  Motherhood 

I  have  conserved  my  strength. 

And  for  the  glory  of  Fatherhood 

He  has  conserved  his  strength. 

I  have  passed  by  the  lovers 

Who  passionately  called  to  me  in  the  name  of  love, 

But  whose  lips  were  only  hot  with  lust. 

I  have  remained  true  to  my  own  soul 

And  to  the  souls  which  are  enfolded  within  me . 

And  no  man  shall  mingle  his  body  with  mine 

Who  is  not  pure. 


12 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

I  am  the  free  woman, 

No  longer  a  slave  to  man, 

Or  anything  in  all  the  universe — 

Not  even  to  myself. 

I  am  the  free  woman. 

I  hold  and  seek  that  which  is  mine: 

Strength  is  mine  and  purity; 

World  work  and  cosmic  love ; 

The  glory  and  the  joy  of  Motherhood. 

I  am  not  strong  and  clean  for  myself  alone, 

But  for  all  people ; 

My  work  and  my  love  are  for  all  people ; 

And  I  shall  not  be  the  mother  of  one  child, 

But  of  all  children — 

For  I  myself  am  the  daughter 

Of  all  women  and  all  men. 

Oh  I  am  free  !    My  song 

Flows  from  my  soul  with  pure  and  joyful  strength; 

It  shall  be  heard  thru  all  the  noise  of  things — 

A  song  of  joy  where  songs  of  joy  were  not. 

Oh  I  am  free !    I  thrill 

With  radiant  life  and  gladness. 

I  advance  toward  all  that  waits  for  me. 

I  chant  the  song  of  Freedom  as  I  go. 

My  face  is  toward  the  sun, 

My  soul  is  toward  the  light, 

My  feet  are  turned  toward  all  that  waits  for  me. 

I  advance  !     I  advance  ! 

Let  Ignorance  and  Tyranny 

Tremble  at  the  sound  of  my  song! 


13 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 


I  HAVE  LOVED 

I  have  loved  winds  that  wander,  tossing  the  trees,  toss 
ing  the  silver  leaves; 

Touching  my  body  softly  or  with  rude  strength ; 
Blowing  thru  my  hair;  saluting  me  and  passing  on. 

I  have  loved  flowers  that  blow: 

Silver  lilies,  purple   poppies,   orange   flowers,   honey 
suckles,  pansies,  lilacs,  geraniums,  violets. 

I  have  loved  the  contact  of  the  grass,  and  of  the  trees ; 
Of  the  brown  earth  pregnant  with  promise. 

have  loved  the  song  of  birds  and  of  the  stars ; 
have  loved  the  sound  of  waters  as  they  flow. 

have  loved  the  glory  of  the  dawn  and  of  the  night, 
have  loved  the  fragrance  of  the  woods  and  of  the 

flowers. 

have  loved  the  mystery  and  strangeness  of  the  sea. 
have  loved  the  mighty  mountains  and  the  hills, 
have  loved  the  mystic  Silence. 
have  loved  the  comradeship  of  animals. 

have  clasped  hands  with  nature, 
have  thrilled  with  all  its  strange  and  passionate  joy. 
Oh  I  have  loved  and  understood. 


I  have  loved  winds  that  wander- 
But  I  have  loved  men  more. 


14 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

I  have  passionately  loved  the  flowers :  poppies,  orange 

flowers,  geraniums,  violets — 

But  more  passionately  have  I  loved  the  human  flowers : 
The  babies,  the  little  children,  the  schoolboy  and  the 

schoolgirl,  the  young  lovers,  the  old  lovers,  the 

mother,  the  father,  the  worker. 

I  have  loved  the  contact  of  the  grass  and  of  the  trees ; 

Of  the  brown  earth  pregnant  with  promise — 

But  I  have  loved  more  the  contact  with  my  fellowmen. 

I  have  loved  the  song  of  birds  and  of  the  stars ; 
I  have  loved  the  sound  of  waters  as  they  flow — 
But  more  than  the  song  of  birds  and  stars, 
More  than  the  sound  of  waters  flowing 
I  have  loved  the  sound  of  my  comrades'  voices 
And  the  music  of  their  souls. 

More  than  the  glory  of  the  dawn  and  of  the  night 
Have  I  loved  the  glory  of  mankind. 

And  greater  than  the  mystery  and  strangeness  of  the 

sea 
Is  the  mystery  and  strangeness  of  the  mass. 

And  there  is  no  fragrance  as  sweet  as  the  fragrance  of 
souls  that  love  each  other. 

Oh  more  than  the  mystic  Silence  have  I  loved  com 
munion  with  my  fellowmen. 

I  have  loved  the  mighty  mountains — but  man  is  might 
ier  than  they. 

The  comradeship  of  animals  have  I  loved — but  still 
more  have  I  loved  the  comradeship  of  men. 


15 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'} 

Because  I  have  clasped  hands  with  nature  I  can  clasp 
hands  more  knowingly  with  man. 

Oh  I  have  thrilled  with  all  his  strange  and  passionate 

joy; 

And  I  have  wept  with  all  his  sorrows. 

I  have  loved  him  in  his  beauty  and  his  strength ; 

I  have  loved  him  in  his  struggle  and  his  pain. 

I  have  loved  him  to  the  heights  and  to  the  depths — 

And  I  have  understood. 

Oh  more  than  everything  have  I  loved  man. 
I  have  loved  man  more  than  God — 
For  man  is  God  made  manifest. 


I  AM  A  WOMAN  AND  I  LOVE 


Amid  the  darkness  and  the  doubt 

I  kneel  and  do  not  know. 

Around  me  the  wild  dust 

Of  unf orgotten  dreams  is  blown ; 

And  in  my  ears  the  sound  of  tortured  souls. 

Amid  the  horrors  of  the  dark 

I  kneel  and  do  not  know. 

I  do  not  know,  I  do  not  know, 

There  is  not  anything  I  know 

Except 

I  am  a  woman  and  I  love : 

I  am  a  woman  and  I  love 

Not  one  man  only,  but  all  men ; 
Not  one  child  only,  but  all  children ; 
And  not  one  nation,  but  the  world. 


16 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 


WE  CANNOT  MOUNT  ALONE 

Oh  I  would  mount  to  the  bright  stars ; 
I  would  be  joyful  always; 
I  would  be  pure  and  full  of  strength; 
But  alas,  I  cannot — 

For  as  long  as  one  man  is  sorrowful  and  broken 

I,  too,  am  sorrowful  and  broken. 

And  as  long  as  one  woman  is  surrounded  with  vileness 

I,  too,  am  surrounded  with  vileness ; 

And  as  long  as  one  soul  is  weak 

I,  too,  am  weak. 

No  bird  falls  to  the  earth  with  broken  wings ; 
No  lily's  lovely  whiteness  turns  to  brown 
But  I,  too,  am  affected. 

And  as  long  as  one  small  child  sobs  in  the  night 
My  heart  will  answer,  sobbing,  too. 

The  stars  are  bright  tho  they  are  far  away. 

I  cannot  mount  to  them  alone, 

Nor  would  I  if  I  could. 

I  am  no  nearer  to  them  than  the  level  of  the  lowest 

man. 
I  can  but  lift  myself  by  raising  him. 

Humanity  is  one,  we  cannot  rise  apart; 

And  joy,  that  strange  sweet  thing  which  all  men  seek, 

Is  never  found  by  those  who  seek  alone. 

The  stars  are  bright  tho  they  are  far  away. 
We  cannot  climb  toward  them,  apart. 
Oh  let  us  wake,  thrilled  with  a  radiant  love, 
And  mount  forever  upward,  hand  in  hand ! 

17 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 


TO  MY  FRIENDS 

More  sweet  than  the  tumult  of  birds  at  dawn, 
And  the  perfume  of  flowers  in  the  moonlight, 
Is  the  song  I  would  build  for  my  friends. 

Stronger  than  the  eternal  laws 

And  as  constant, 

Is  the  song  I  would  build  for  those  I  love. 

Oh  I  would  build  with  mighty  melody 

A  song 

For  those  to  whom  my  soul  doth  kneel. 

Oh  I  have  loved  many  things ! 

Birds  and  flowers  and  books, 

But  more  than  all  else  have  I  loved  my  friends. 

And  I  have  built  many  songs; 

But  I  shall  build  one 

That  shall  transcend  them  all. 

Oh  my  friends,  I  give  you  my  song; 
It  is  all  of  me. 

I  have  not  builded  it  with  words, 
It  is  the  music  of  my  soul. 


I  stumbled  over  dark  rocks 

Blackening  them  with  my  blood; 

I  was  blind  I  could  not  see. 

But  my  friend  walking  near  me  said,  "Open  thine  eyes" 

And  behold  the  sun  was  shining  on  a  garden  of  flowers. 


18 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 

The  serpent  had  bitten  me, 
Bruising  my  heart; 

I  knew  the  vileness  and  the  lusts  of  man 

But  my  friend  walking  near  me  clasped  my  hand, 
In  him  I  saw  man's  greatness  and  forgot. 

I  lay  low  upon  the  earth, 

A  tortured  thing  of  dust 

But  my  friend's  white  soul,  moving  upward, 
Drew  me  with  mystic  music  toward  the  stars. 

Oh  in  the  strong  love  of  my  friends 
I  have  found  strength. 
And  in  the  purity  of  their  faith 
I  have  found  hope. 

In  the  glory  of  their  lives  I  see  man's  heights  and  pos 
sibilities. 

Within  their  souls  I  have  found  God. 

Jfl 

A  MESSAGE 

My  eyes  have  not  seen  you; 

And  my  ears  have  not  heard  you  speak; 

Yet  I  know  you  are  beautiful. 

The  mate  of  beauty  is  beautiful. 
The  companion  of  love  cannot  hate. 
The  friend  of  hope  moves  forward. 
The  lover  of  freedom  is  strength. 

Dear  Comrade,  I  love  you! 

I  twine  a  wreath  of  blossoms  in  your  hair, 

I  gaze  into  your  eyes 

And  tremble  with  the  wonder  of  your  dream. 

Perhaps  we  may  not  meet  upon  the  road, 

And  so  I  toss  my  song  to  you  and  cry, 

"Good  luck!" 

19 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 


TO  MY  COMRADE  WHO  KNOWS 
ALL  THINGS 

I  have  a  Comrade  who  knows  all  things — and  under 
stands. 

Many  winters  have  silvered  his  soft  shining  hair, 
And  his  heart  is  as  young  as  the  first  flower  in  spring, 
And  as  old  as  the  first  sorrow  in  man. 

My  Comrade  has  soared  to  the  white  heights  of  inspi 
ration. 

He  has  stood  face  to  face  with  God. 

He  has  walked  with  workers. 

He  has  talked  with  flowers  and  with  animals. 

He  has  sung  with  the  birds. 

He  has  heard  the  voices  of  the  leaves,  and  of  the 
winds,  and  of  the  stars. 

He  has  heard  the  music  of  the  universe. 

He  has  felt  the  charm  and  passion  of  the  sea. 
His  soul  has  knelt  to  the  great  mountains ; 
And  expanded  with  the  vast  mystery  of  Beauty. 
He  has  learned  the  lesson  of  the  Silence. 
He  has  danced  with  the  bright  waters. 
He  has  felt  all  sorrow  and  all  joy. 
He  has  loved  all  people. 
He  has  dreamed  the  Dream. 

My  Comrade  is  kind  and  simple  as  a  little  child — he 
knows  all  things. 

He  is  not  critical  nor  harsh ; 

He  does  not  pass  judgment  upon  others — he  under 
stands. 

20 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

He  has  not  sought  for  wealth  nor  fame. 

He  has  expressed  himself  in  service  to  his  fellowmen. 

He  is  a  singer  of  great  songs. 

He  is  a  thinker  of  great  thoughts. 

He  is  a  doer  of  great  deeds. 

He  knows  all  things — and  understands. 


I  have  loved  you,  my  Comrade,  so  long!  so  long! 
Your  songs  have  gone  into  my  blood. 
I  have  knelt  before  your  great  white  soul. 
I  have  loved  you  so  long !  so  long ! 

I  never  dreamed  that  we  should  meet — except  in  Fairy 
land. 

I  never  dreamed  that  we  should  pass  so  near  on  the 
great  Highway. 

You  stretched  your  hands  to  me. 
We  gazed  into  each  other's  eyes. 
Our  souls  leapt  like  two  flames — and  mingled. 
I  was  dumb.     But  you  who  know  all  things — under 
stood. 

*     *     * 

Oh  my  Comrade,  I  would  bring  you  a  gift 
As  a  symbol  of  the  reverent  love  I  bear  you ; 
For  the  impulse  of  love  is  to  give. 

I  would  bring  you  silver  lilies — 

How  joyfully  they  would  grow  'neath  the  rays  of  your 

great  white  soul. 

I  would  bring  you  the  poets  we  have  loved  so. 
I  would  bring  you  the  smiles  of  babies  and  lovers. 
I  would  bring  you  the  charm  of  the  moonlight  and  the 

sunlight. 

21 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

I  would  bring  you  the  glory  of  the  dawn  and  the  fra 
grance  of  the  night. 

I  would  bring  you  multitudes  of  the  things   I  have 

loved. 

But — you  who  know  all  things,  possess  all  things. 
And  no  one  could  add  to  what  is  yours. 
*     *     * 

My  Comrade,  my  song  of  you  flows  from  my  soul. 

I  dare  not  slay  it — 

Tho  I  know  it  is  not  meet  to  sing  it. 

For  who  am  I,  that  I  should  sing  a  song  for  one  who  is 

a  master  singer*? 
And  who  am  I  that  I  should  make  a  song  for  one  who 

is  so  great  and  good? 

But  you  who  know  all  things,  will  understand. 

J* 

BEAUTIFUL  FACE 

Beautiful  face  with  your  soft,  silver  hair, 

And  your  white  soul  shining  thru, 

I  love  you  so. 

Oh  kind  are  your  dear  eyes — they  understand  all ; 

And  kind  is  your  dear  smile,  enfolding  all ; 

And  bright  is  your  white  soul,  which  illumines  all. 

Beautiful  face  that  I  love  so, 

Many  years  have  passed  over  you, 

And  each  has  made  you  richer  and  more  beautiful. 

You  shine  within  the  consciousness  of  men  like  a  white 

star, 
Leading  them  on  to  heights  of  inspiration  and  of  love. 


22 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 


BECAUSE  YOUR  BEAUTY  IS 

Darkness,  Earthquake  and  Storm, 

And  I  in  the  ruins  alone, 

With  my  crumbled  heart  at  my  feet. 

Then  the  luminous  whiteness  of  your  soul  shone  down 

upon  me; 

And  I  lifted  up  my  face  unto  your  love — 
A  love  which  folds  all  creatures  to  your  breast, 
The  love  of  Socrates  and  Christ : 
Understanding  all, 
Forgiving  all, 
Hoping   all — 
And  I  was  glad 
Because  your  beauty  is ! 

As  I  go  the  long  road 

And  the  dust  is  in  my  face, 

I  will  remember. 

As  the  silken  bonds  which  comrades  have  made  to  hold 

me,  I  tear  apart, 

And  the  ground  is  moistened  with  my  blood, 
I  will  remember. 
When  those  who  pass  me  strike 
Because  they  cannot  understand, 
I  will  remember. 

And  when  in  utter  loneliness  I  stand, 
Torn  with  the  pains  of  desolation, 
I  will  remember. 

Yea!  even  when  my  soul  in  darkness 
Falls  writhing  with  utmost  agony, 
I  will  remember. 
I  will  forget  the  agony  and  tears ; 
I  will  forgive  the  bitterness  and  blows; 

23 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 

I  will  lift  my  face  unto  the  mighty  love; 
I  will  be  glad 
Because  your  beauty  is\! 

And  when  death  has  folded  me  in  silent  mist, 

And  the  sunlight  and  the  moonlight  know  me  no  more, 

When  the  purple  on  the  distant  hills 

Smites  me  no  more  with  adoration, 

When  music  moves  me  no  longer, 

And  the  tremulous  mystery  of  spring 

Wakens  no  answer  in  my  heart — 

The  flowers  will  still  grow  toward  you, 

And  the  birds  will  still  sing  near  you, 

The  tortured  ones  within  your  arms  will  smile, 

They  will  be  glad 

Because  your  beauty  is. 

<£ 

YOUR  GREAT  WHITE  SOUL 

I  kneel  before  your  great  white  Soul,  oh  my  Comrade ! 

I  kneel  before  it  in  awe  and  adoration. 

Though  I  am  unworthy  to  kneel  before  you,  I  love 

you; 
And  when  I  am  with  you,  your  greatness  makes  me 

forget  even  my  unworthiness. 
You  are  like  the  sun  which  shines  upon  all  flowers 

alike, 

Helping  each  to  bloom  in  its  own  way : 
And  before  your  great  white  Soul  I  kneel  in  silence. 

J* 

WHERE  THE  FAIRIES  LIVE 

Dost  thou  not  know  where  the  fairies  live  *? 

The  fairies  live  in  the  lilies  white, 
And  in  the  silver  soft  moonlight; 
The  fairies  live  in  mad  delight 
Within  my  heart — tonight. 
24 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 


THE  PURPLE  WISTARIA 

The  purple  wistaria  grows  upward,  seeking  the  stars. 
Sweet  is  its  perfume,  strangely  sweet ; 
And  silver  are  its  leaves,  fairy  leaves. 

I  walk  in  the  moonlight  near  the  purple  wistaria  which 

grows  upward,  toward  the  stars. 
I  walk  in  the  moonlight  near  the  strange,  sweet  flower 

that  I  love  so. 

Oh  the  mystery  of  night  is  in  my  blood ! 
And  the  charm  of  the  moonlight  is  in  my  heart! 
And  the  fragrance  of  the  flower  thrills  thru  my  soul ! 
Oh  I  am  mad  with  strange  and  passionate  joy! 

Flower  that  I  love  so,  flower  that  grows  upward,  seek 
ing  the  stars ; 

Flower  with  the  strange  sweet  perfume  and  the  silver 
fairy  leaves ; 

Why  do  you  thrill  me  with  such  strange  and  passionate 

joy? 

Why  do  you  madden  me  with  ecstasy  divine*? 

Flower  that  I  love  so,  your  beauty  vibrates  thru  my 

soul  forever, — 
Oh  help  me  upward,  for  I,  too,  am  seeking  the  stars ! 


25 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 


MY  HEART  EXPANDS  AS  IT  REACHES 
TO  ENFOLD 

When  I  returned  after  a  long  absence 

My  Lover  said  to  me, 

"Why  do  you  continually  speak  of  these  new  friends, 

these  new  loves? 
I  am  sorrowful,  I  rage  with  jealousy." 

But  I  said  to  my  Lover, 

Gazing  deep  into  her  eyes, 

"Did  you  think  my  heart  so  small  that  by  enfolding 

others  there  would  be  less  room  for  you  *? 
Can  there  be  too  many  blossoms  in  spring? 
Does  the  dawn  greet  many  birds  with  less  joy  than 

one  T 

"Ah  Beloved,  my  heart  expands  as  it  reaches  to  en 
fold." 

£ 

TOGETHER 

A  thousand  birds  are  singing  in  my  heart — 

Because  I  am  near  you. 

A  thousand  birds  make  music  in  my  soul. 

I  did  not  know  that  I  could  be  so  happy. 

I  thought  my  heart  a  barren  place, 

Heavy  with  dead  dreams ; 

But  it  is  flooded  with  eternal  Love. 

Life  is  more  than  heaven — 
We  two  are  together. 
26 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'} 


IT  IS  NOT  POSSIBLE  TO  LOVE 
TOO  MUCH 

If  I  had  loved  you  less, 

I  might  have  been  a  happy  woman, 

So  they  say. 

If  I  had  loved  less, 

I  had  not  ventured  all — and  lost. 

I  had  not  hurled  defiance 

At  the  cold  respectability  of  man 

And  faced  the  censure  of  a  world. 

But,  dear,  I  could  not  love  you  less. 

You  came  into  my  life 

Like  a  song  when  all  was  still, 

Like  a  bird  where  birds  were  not, 

Like  a  bright  star  in  a  black,  black  night. 

I  could  not  love  you  less ; 

I  would  not  give  the  wild,  strange  sweetness  of  your 

kiss, 

The  sound  of  your  dear  voice  saying,  "I  love  you !" 
For  everything  the  world  could  yield. 

If  I  had  loved  you  less, 

I  might  have  held  you  longer. 

But,  dear,  I  would  not  breathe  one  word  of  blame. 

Whatever  you  have  done,  I  know 

That  for  a  while  you  loved  me. 

Your  soul  is  like  a  free,  strong  bird  that  soars, 
Men  cannot  put  such  souls  in  cages. 

27 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 

I  would  not  be  a  petty  soul 

Who  seeks  for  love 

And  cries  out  that  the  price  is  great — 

There  is  no  price  too  great  to  pay  for  love. 

And  such  a  love  as  ours  was  worth 

All  heaven,  hell  and  earth. 

If  I  had  loved  you  less, 
I  would  not  wake  now  in  the  night, 
Blinded  with  burning  tears; 
Reaching  my  yearning  arms, 
Finding  you  not. 

If  I  had  loved  you  less, 
I  would  not  fancy  in  the  dusk 
That  I  could  hear  your  voice — 
Your  dear  loved  voice 
Calling  to  me  across  the  world. 

If  I  had  loved  you  less, 

I  would  not  see  you  now 

In  every  baby's  eyes, 

I  would  not  feel  the  dumb  and  ceaseless  pain 

Which  tears  my  heart. 

If  I  had  loved  you  less — 

But,  dear,  I  would  not  love  you  less, 

I  would  but  love  you  more, 

If  it  were  possible. 

We  few  sad  souls  who  stray  with  Love, 

Out  of  the  cage  where  men  have  bid  us  sing, 

Have  learned  some  things  while  we  were  'mid  the  stars. 

And  tho  the  race,  its  false  conventions  spurned, 
Would  cry  us  down  into  the  depths  of  hell, 

28 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

We  rise  triumphant,  hurling  our  glad  words 

Across  eternity — 

The  stars  know  they  are  true : 

There  is  no  price  too  great  to  pay  for  love. 
It  is  not  possible  to  love  too  much! 

£ 

SALUTATION  TO  THE  DAY 

Glorious  Day,  I  salute  thee ! 

Enfold  me  with  thy  beauty  and  thy  joy; 

Make  me  radiant  with  service ; 

Thrill  my  soul  with  vision  and  with  dream ! 

Upon  this  day  I  shall  walk  nearer  to  the  goal ; 

I  shall  lift  my  face  with  greater  consecration  and  with 

hope; 
I  shall  send  forth  throughout  all  time  vibrations  of 

love,  beauty,  joy,  strength  and  peace. 
£ 

A  SONG 

For  you  the  hills  are  white  with  snow. 
For  you  the  red  leaved  poppies  blow. 
For  you  my  heart  sings  soft  and  low. 
My  dear,  I  love  you,  love  you  so. 

All  things  await  our  coming,  dear. 
The  flowers  and  the  dream  are  here. 
We  need  but  seek  and  we  may  rear 
A  temple  where  our  souls  may  hear 
The  music  of  the  stars. 

Let  us  so  love  that  our  love  may 
Light  other  souls  upon  the  way ; 
Find  sweeter  roses  in  the  May 
Someday ! 

29 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 


I  WILL  FADE  INTO  A  STAR 

I  will  fade  into  a  star; 
You  will  know  that  I  am  near 
Though  afar. 

I  will  fade  into  a  flower ; 
I  will  greet  you  every  hour 
With  the  perfume  and  the  dew; 
I  will  sing  a  song  to  you. 

I  will  fade  into  a  dream, 
Where  the  joyous  fairies  gleam, 
In  a  mystic  music-beam. 

I  will  fade  into  a  brook ; 
I  will  lift  my  head  and  look 
At  the  sunshine  and  the  air ; 
I  will  wander  everywhere. 

I  will  fade  into  a  song 

That  will  ease  the  heart  of  wrong. 

I  will  weave  a  sacred  shrine 

Where  thy  soul  may  mate  with  mine. 

I  will  walk  with  you  each  day, 
I  will  clasp  your  hand  and  say, 
"There  are  roses  in  the  May." 


30 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 


TO  WALT  WHITMAN 

Dear  Father,  you  called  for  those  who  were  to  justify 

you. 

Behold  they  appear ! 

With  a  loud  shout  they  announce  themselves. 
Rough  they  are  with  the  touch  of  the  wind; 
Magnetic  with  the  touch  of  the  sun ; 
And  their  voices  are  strong,  beautiful. 

But  those  who  feared  you  and  ran  from  you 

Are  equally  frighened  by  them. 

The  past-worshippers,  the  mediocre,  the  feeble-souled, 

the  tiny-minded,  the  scholars  who  feed  on  dead 

men's  bones, — 
All  these  are  confused  and  recede. 

They  will  have  none  of  you  nor  your  fearless  brood. 
They  shut  themselves  in   closed  houses,   fearing  the 

wind; 
The  sun  might  fade  their  carpets — so  they  die. 

Oh  why  did  you  ask  to  be  justified'? 

To  the  understanding  you  are  already  justified; 

And  to  the  rest  you  can  never  be. 

Does  the  earth  need  to  be  justified*?  or  the  sun*? 

Wise  men  once  said  the  earth  was  flat. 

The  earth  in  its  greatness  was  silent. 

And  if  I,  gazing  at  the  sun, 

Contend  it  gives  no  light — 

I  merely  prove  myself  a  fool. 


31 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 


MY  SOUL  IS  SINGING  WITH  THE 
STARS 

My  soul  is  singing  with  the  stars. 

I  vibrate  with  the  love  of  life. 

I  thrill  with  joyous  melody. 

Oh,  I  am  one  with  all  the  flow  and  glow  of  life ! 

And  all  the  flowers  sweet  with  dew  are  singing,  too. 

And  all  the  little  blades  of  grass ; 

And  all  the  fairies  as  they  pass ; 

And  all  the  moonbeams  and  the  leaves, 

And  every  gentle,  fragrant  breeze, — 

Yes,  everything  is  singing,  too,  even  you ! 

Ah,  love!  this  symphony  of  life, — 

Each  planet  singing  in  its  place, 

Each  atom  singing  in  its  place, 

Each  grain  of  sand  and  drop  of  dew  singing,  too, — 

How  marvelous,  how  glorious  it  is ! 

Life's  melody  forever  flows; 

Love  glows ; 

And  our  souls  sing  amid  the  stars. 

Ji 
MY  COMMANDMENT 

Other  things  I  have  said  to  thee,  beloved,  thou  mayest 

forget, 

But  this  thou  wilt  never  forget: 
Thou  art  a  part  of  the  great  harmony  called  life ; 
Resist  not  love — let  thou  the  music  out. 

32 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 


IN  THE  ABSENCE  OF  YOUR  LOVE 

As  a  flower  fades  and  falls 

When  the  dew  from  heaven  comes  not, 

So  I  fade  and  fall,  Beloved, 

In  the  absence  of  your  love. 

As  a  flower  writhes  and  withers 
When  the  rain  from  heaven  falls  not, 
So  I  writhe  and  wither 
In  the  absence  of  your  love. 

As  a  flower  cannot  live 
Without  love, 
So  I  fold  my  leaves  and  die 
Loving  you. 

<* 

HEART-BREAK 

I  do  not  ask  for  your  love. 

What  has  the  storm  on  the  desert 

To  do  with  the  beauty  of  youth? 

I  do  not  ask  for  your  love. 

All  night  and  day  I  wear  myself  out 

With  the  terrible  force  of  my  passion. 

I  do  not  ask  for  your  love. 

I  die 

With  a  thirst  that  cannot  be  eased, 

With  a  fever  that  cannot  be  soothed. 

Oh  what  has  the  storm  on  the  desert 
To  do  with  the  beauty  of  youth! 
33 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 


THE  RUNNER 

Lithe  and  strong  stands  the  runner  poised  for  the  race. 
Lean  is  his  body,  freed  from  superflous  flesh; 
Clean  is  the  blood  which  flows  within  it. 
He  is  suggestive  of  great  strength ; 
Strength  to  achieve  and  overcome. 

As  you  gaze  upon  him  you  know  that  he  has  not 
weakened  himself  with  alcohol  or  tobacco — 

He  could  not  afford  to  weaken  himself  with  alcohol  or 
tobacco ; 

Neither  has  he  weakened  himself  by  sexual  indulgence, 
or  overeating — 

He  has  conserved  himself  for  the  race; 

And  you  feel  as  you  gaze  upon  him 

That  he  will  be  a  winner. 

Lithe  and  strong  stands  the  runner,  poised  for  the  race. 
The  wind  is  on  his  face,  it  rumples  his  hair. 
His  muscles  are  co-ordinated ;  his  being  is  in  harmony. 
He  is  conscious  of  power. 

The  track  is  before  him;  his  eyes  are  toward  the  dis 
tant  Goal. 

He  waits,  alert;  power  in  every  inch  of  him. 
The  signal  is  given;  he  leaps  into  the  air — 
The  race  is  on. 

Oh!  to  be  a  runner! 

To  be  lithe,  strong  with  coordinate  muscles ; 
To  be  harmonious  and  conscious  of  power ; 
To  be  clean  and  full  of  strength ; 
To  refuse  to  waste  myself  in  sensuality; 
To  conserve  myself  for  the  race. 

34 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems\ 

Oh,  to  be  a  runner ! 

To  leap,  and  shout  with  the  wind ; 

To  be  utterly  free,  mad,  wild,  exultant! 

Oh,  to  be  a  runner ! 

To  turn  one's  face  toward  the  Goal ; 

And  to  reach  the  Goal ; 

Exhausted,  if  necessary,  with  blood  streaming  from 

the  mouth  and  nostrils ; 
But  to  reach  the  Goal ! 

Oh,  to  be  a  runner ! 
To  be  strong,  clean,  powerful, 
To  conserve  one's  energy ;  to  reach  the  Goal, 
To  be  a  winner  in  the  race ! 

J» 

WISDOM 

I  know  a  man  who  is  a  scholar: 
He  understands  Greek  and  Latin; 
He  has  delved  in  the  dust  of  the  Past — 
I  am  wiser  than  he. 

I  know  a  man  who  is  a  "Success" : 
He  is  thoroughly  efficient; 
He  works  like  machinery — 
I  am  wiser  than  he. 

I  know  a  man  who  has  traveled : 
Over  the  world  he  has  traveled ; 
From  Chaldea  to  San  Francisco — 
I  am  wiser  than  he. 

I  know  a  man  who  is  not  a  scholar,  nor  a  "Success," 

nor  traveled. 
He  is  a  man. 

His  soul  vibrates  in  harmony  with  love — 
I  kneel  at  his  feet. 

35 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems\ 


I  GAZE  UPON  THE  HILLS 

I  gaze  upon  the  hills  which  rise  between  us, 
The  bitter  hills  which  shut  me  off  from  you; 
And  I  am  very  lonely  in  the  night. 

Oh  I  have  tried  to  rise  above  the  hills, 

And  wildly  have  I  struggled  in  the  dark 

Only  to  fall  upon  the  stones 

Beneath  the  stars  which  shine  upon  us  both. 

But  now  I  know  tho  hills  may  rise  between  us — 
And  bitter  are  the  hills  which  rise  between — 
They  cannot  keep  my  soul  from  you. 

£ 

I  CANNOT  LINGER  BY  THE  ROAD 

Altho  the  violets  grow  beside  the  road,  dear, 
And  you  are  there  to  twine  them  in  my  hair, 
With  all  their  fragrance  and  your  love, 
I  cannot  linger  by  the  road. 

I  go  the  road,  and  I  must  go  alone, 
And  many  are  the  stones  beneath  my  feet. 
Some  other  traveler  within  the  gloom 
Shall  hear  me  singing  thru  the  dark. 

And  tho  I  fall  and  never  reach  the  Goal, 
Perhaps  some  other  traveler  will  find  the  path 
By  my  dark  blood-prints  on  the  rocks. 

And  when  my  heart  is  very  sad 
And  I  am  lonely  in  the  night, 

I  clasp  some  outcast  to  my  breast 

And  kiss  your  lips. 

36 


£A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 


IN  THE  END 

You  buds  who  have  not  blossomed; 

You  flowers  who  have  not  bloomed; 

I  salute  you. 

Gently  I  press  my  lips  upon  your  lips; 

Softly  I  clasp  your  hands ; 

And  we  walk  toward  the  sunrise  together. 

Oh  Beloved,  I  understand  you. 

I  do  not  weep  for  you. 

I  shout  with  joy, 

For  I  know  that  all  buds  shall  blossom, 

And  all  flowers  shall  bloom. 

What  matters  a  few  years  or  a  few  centuries  ?- 
In  the  end  all  shall  attain. 


LOVE 

Love  gives  all, 

Seeking  but  the  expression  of  itself. 

Love  is  pure; 

Its  eyes  are  toward  the  stars. 

Love  is  growth; 
It  moves  forward. 

Where  love  is 
There  is  life. 

Where  love  is  not 
There  is  nothing. 

37 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 


I  SAID  TO  THE  DRY  PROFESSOR 

I  said  to  the  dry  professor, 
In  the  midst  of  his  dust  and  cobwebs : 
"There  is  something  higher  than  reason." 
He  laughed,  thinking  me  a  fool. 

Oh  these  exalters  of  reason,  of  the  cold  intellect ; 

These  worshippers  at  the  tombs  of  the  dead ; 

These  men  of  petty  vision  and  of  rules ! 

With  dead  languages,  dead  philosophies,  dead  thoughts 

They  shut  themselves  from  the  sunlight, 

And  demand  that  others  do  likewise. 

They  are  but  ghouls 
Feasting  on  the  dead. 

Jl 

THE  PAST 

I  do  not  come  as  a  whirlwind,  a  destroyer  of  things. 
I  come  as  a  builder,  a  maker  of  things. 

I  shall  not  be  fettered  by  the  Past,  by  things  outgrown 

and  musty, 
Neither  shall  I  gaze  at  the  Past  with  scorn. 

That  within  it  which  is  outgrown  and  musty, 
I  part  aside.     It  falls  like  husks  from  the  growing 
fruit. 

But  that  within  it  which  is  still  beautiful  and  necessary 
I  conserve — as  a  foundation  for  the  Future. 


38 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 


SOLIDARITY 

In  the  long  night  a  word  was  spoken; 

And  when  the  Masters  heard  it — 

They  who  feed  on  children's  blood  and  women's  flesh — 

They  hid  their  faces  from  the  stars,  and  cried: 

"It  must  not  be !" 

In  the  long  night  a  word  was  spoken; 

And  when  the  Workers  heard  it — 

They  who  built  the  world  with  strength  and  fearful 

pain — 

They  turned  their  faces  toward  the  stars  and  cried: 
"It  shall  be  so!" 

In  the  long  night  a  word  was  spoken; 

A  single  word — yet  empires  fell,  and  systems  turned 

to  dust. 

And  thru  the  lessening  gloom  a  white  bird  rose, 
Singing  a  hymn  unto  the  dawn. 

£ 

FORGET 

Forget  ?    Forget ! 

Perhaps  when  the  stars  have  crumbled 
And  the  dust  of  the  worlds  blows  wild 
I  will  forget. 

Perhaps  when  my  tortured  soul 
Has  risen  from  its  last  cross 
I  will  forget. 

Forget  ?    Forget ! 
Yes,  I  will  forget 
When  you  have  forgotten. 
39 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'} 

A  SONG  OF  THE  EARTH 

This  is  a  song  of  the  Earth. 

The  Earth  is  brown  and  broken. 

It  is  passive  without  passion. 

It  is  neither  moral  nor  immoral. 

It  denies  none — upon  it  walk  the  just  and  the  unjust; 
the  prostitute,  the  politician,  the  sensualist,  the 
child,  the  saint. 

Within  it  crawl  foul  worms  and  loathsome  things. 

The  garbage  and  the  rot  of  man  are  thrown  upon  its 
bosom  where  all  the  dead  of  yesterday  lie  fes 
tering  in  their  filth. 

It  is  an  endless  graveyard,  a  huge  tomb,  where  all 
mankind  must  fall  and  decompose. 

The  Earth  is  brown  and  broken — yet  from  its  brown- 
ness  grows  the  green  grass ;  and  from  its  bro- 
keness  rises  the  grandeur  of  the  mountains. 

It  is  passive  without  passion — yet  potent  with  limit 
less  life,  and  susceptible  to  love. 

It  is  neither  moral  nor  immoral — yet  it  sustains  that 
which  makes  for  morality  and  yields  it  strength. 

It  denies  none — even  as  the  sun  denies  none,  and  serves 
as  a  resting  place  for  all  who  are  weary  and 
sinful  as  well  as  those  who  are  joyful  and  pure. 

Within  it  crawl  foul  worms  and  loathsome  things — yet 
all  men  draw  from  it  their  food. 

From  out  the  garbage  and  the  rot,  from  out  the  filth 
and  festering  dead — the  white-rose  blows. 

And  in  the  endless  graveyard,  the  huge  tomb— the  car 
casses  of  men  are  purified. 


40 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

This  is  a  song  of  the  Earth : 

The  brown,  broken,  passive  Earth;  the  Earth  without 

passion  or  morality ; 
The  Earth  which  denies  none ;  within  which  crawl  foul 

worms  and  loathsome  things ; 
Upon  whose  breast  the  garbage  and  the  rot  of  man  are 

mingled  with  the  festering  filth  of  death; 
The  Earth  which  is  a  graveyard,  a  huge  tomb,  where 

all  men  fall  and  decompose. 

This  is  a  song  of  the  Earth : 

The  Earth  of  the  green  grass  and  the  great  mountains ; 
The  Earth  that  is  potent  with  limitless  life ; 
The  Earth  which  is  susceptible  to  love ; 
The  Earth  which  is  impartial  as  the  Sun ; 
The  Earth  from  which  men  draw  their  food ; 
The  Earth  from  which  the  white-rose  blows ; 
The  Earth  which  purifies  even  the  rotting  carcasses  of 
men. 

This  is  a  song  of  the  Earth ; 

The  Earth  contains  good  and  evil ; 

It  contains  the  moral  and  the  immoral ; 

It  contains  rot  and  the  white-rose; 

Let  those  who  seek  rot  find  it ; 

Let  them  not  cry  out  because  it  is  so ; 

For  verily  it  hath  been  written, 

What  a  man  seeketh  that  shall  he  find. 

This  is  a  song  of  the  Earth. 

Let  those  who  will  listen ; 

And  those  who  can,  understand. 


41 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 


THE  GLORY  OF  FATHERHOOD 

The  glory  of  Motherhood 
Poets  have  sung; 
But  the  glory  of  Fatherhood  — 
That  is  left  for  me  to  sing. 

So  now  I  build  a  great  song, 

Not  with  words, 

And  you  will  not  find  it  in  this  book, 

Nor  the  pages  of  any  other  book  ; 

But  if  you  listen  you  may  hear  it 

Vibrating  in  the  hearts  of  the  Fathers  of  the  race. 


SING  ON 

Sing  on,  little  bird,  amid  the  silver  leaves,  sing  on! 

Today  is  the  time*  of  joy; 

The  time  of  the  glad  heart  and  the  full  throat 

And  the  passionate  trills  of  love  ; 

But  tomorrow  —  Ah  !  tomorrow  —  who  knows  ? 

Sing  on,  oh  heart  of  me,  sing  on  ! 

Mad  you  are  with  the  joy  of  life, 

And  glad  with  the  gladness  of  youth. 

Sing  on  ! 

Sing  in  the  sunshine  the  songs  for  those  you  love  ; 

For  today  is  the  time  of  gladness  and  love  ; 

But  tomorrow  !  —  Ah  tomorrow  —  who  knows  ? 


42 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 


I  SING  THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  BODY 

I  sing  the  beauty  of  the  body, 

The  human  body,  marvelous  and  strange! 

Vibrant  with  radiant  life,  and  fragrant, 

Harmonious,  co-ordinate — 

Bones,  muscles,  tissues,  blood, 

All  in  their  places ; 

Each  performing  its  function, 

Each  sacred  and  potent. 

I  sing  the  beauty  of  the  body ; 

Moving  with  free  rythm  over  the  earth, 

Swimming  in  the  blue  bay; 

Dashing  thru  the  breakers'  foam; 

Sunning  itself  upon  the  sand ; 

The  human  body,  naked,  unashamed; 

Sacred  in  every  part. 

I  sing  the  beauty  of  the  body, 
The  body  of  the  man — 
Stripped  of  its  ugly  clothing, 
Vibrant  in  the  sun  and  air, 
Yielding  its  fragrance  to  the  wind; 
Strong-limbed  and  powerful, 
Freed  from  superflous  flesh, 
Chest  filled  with  air, 
Diaphram  expanded, 
Controlled  in  every  atom, 
Moving  with  grace 
In  freedom  and  in  joy. 


43 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 

I  sing  the  beauty  of  the  body : 

The  body  of  the  woman — 

Stripped  of  corsets  and  tight  clothing, 

Nude  in  the  sunlight  or  the  moonlight, 

Yielding  its  perfume  to  the  air, 

As  a  flower  unfolds  its  petals  to  the  dawn; 

Strong-limbed,  with  potent  charm, 

Hair  tossing  in  the  wind, 

Exquisite  breasts  lifted  to  salute  the  stars. 

The  body  of  the  woman  vibrant,  harmonious ; 
Drawing  with  mystic  attraction  the  body  of  the  man; 
And  the  body  of  the  man  vibrant,  harmonious, 
Drawing  with  mystic  attraction  the  body  of  the  woman ; 
The  body  of  the  man  and  woman 
Uniting  in  harmony 
To  produce  a  greater  harmony — 
The  Child. 

I  sing  the  beauty  of  the  body; 
The  body  of  the  man,  of  the  woman,  of  the  child, 
The  body  of  youth,  maturity,  old  age. 
I  sing  the  beauty  of  the  body, 
The  human  body  strong  and  potent, 
The  human  body  marvelous  and  strange ! 

& 

TO  MY  LOVER 

I  cannot  offer  you  the  dew  of  morning  which  lay  upon 

my  heart, 
For  it  has  wasted  with  the  struggles  of  my  soul  and 

the  fierce  heat  of  a  mad  world ; 

But  I  do  give  you  the  blossom  of  my  womanhood — 
Which  storms  cannot  waste,  nor  worlds  destroy. 
The  blossom  of  my  womanhood,  Oh  my  Lover,  do  I 

give  to  you; 

Softly  it  unfolds  its  petals  to  your  love. 

44 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Potms\ 


CAGED 

I  saw  a  bird  in  a  cage. 

It  did  not  sing, 

It  beat  its  wings  against  the  bars. 

I  saw  a  tiger  in  a  cage,  at  the  circus. 
People  came  to  look  at  it,  and  said : 
"It  is  a  surly  beast." 

For  the  tiger  snarled,  and  looked  afar  off, 
Thinking  of  its  jungle  home. 

Oh  I  know  why  the  bird  could  not  sing ; 

I  know  how  the  tiger  felt — 

For  I,  too,  am  caged ; 

Caged  like  the  bird  that  could  not  sing ; 

Caged  like  the  proud  beast  of  the  jungle ; 

Caged ! 

The  great  gray  buildings  shut  me  in; 
The  noises  of  the  city  madden  me. 
I  toil  and  toil,  a  mere  machine — 
That  those  who  keep  me  here 
May  wander  where  the  flowers  grow. 

And  when  I  beat  my  wings  against  the  bars, 
With  wild  rebellion  at  my  fearful  fate, 
I  only  fall,  prostrate,  at  last — 
The  bars  remain. 

Oh  I  know  why  the  bird  could  not  sing; 

I  know  how  the  proud  beast  of  the  jungle  felt. 

I  want  to  feel  the  brown  earth  'neath  my  feet ; 
I  am  so  weary  of  these  paving  stones. 

45 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 

I  want  to  see  the  fields  all  freshly  ploughed ; 

And  with  the  green  things  growing. 

I  want  to  breathe  the  air  when  it  is  clean. 

I  want  to  touch  the  ocean ; 

To  see  the  sky — from  which  these  great  gray  buildings 

shut  me  off ; 

To  watch  the  moon  come  up, 
Behind  the  trees,  behind  the  silent  hills. 
I  want  to  learn  from  the  great  stillness. 

I  want  to  see  the  cows  and  sheep  alive — 

Not  hanging  bloody  in  a  butcher  shop. 

I  want  to  touch  the  trees ; 

To  feel  the  grass  and  flowers. 

To  rest  for  a  brief  while — and  grow. 

(Sad  is  the  bird  with  broken  wings 
Who  gazes  at  the  clouds  and  cannot  fly — 
But  sadder  is  the  bird  within  the  cage.) 

The  bare  walls  of  my  narrow  room 

Have  tortured  me  too  long. 

The  ceaseless  toil,  the  soulless  paving  stones ; 

The  great  gray,  ugly  buildings 

Fill  me  with  vast  disgust. 

But  when  I  beat  my  wings  against  the  bars 
With  wild  rebellion  at  my  fearful  fate 
I  only  fall,  with  futile  pain — 
The  bars  remain. 

Oh  I  know  why  the  bird  could  not  sing ; 

I  know  how  the  tiger  felt — 

For  I,  too,  am  caged ; 

Caged  like  the  bird  that  could  not  sing ; 

Caged  like  the  proud  beast  of  the  jungle; 

Caged ! 

46 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 


THE  LOST  JOY 

There  is  no  joy  in  all  the  world 
Like  the  joy  of  labor. 

Oh  to  be  a  laborer  ! 

To  be  strong,  potent ! 

To  create  something — 

To  be  a  god  ! 

Oh  loudly  I  carol  the  song  of  the  joy  of  labor ; 

For  in  all  the  world  there  is  no  joy  so  great. 


We  toil  in  the  dark  coal  mines  underground, 
Where  death  waits  in  the  blackness — 
Our  labor  has  no  joy. 

We  toil  in  the  great  steel  mills, 
Where  our  souls  are  burnt, 
Our  bodies  bartered  for  a  crust. 
If  you  had  toiled  as  we  have  toiled, 
You  would  not  sing  of  joy. 

We  are  the  children  from  the  factories'  gloom. 

We  know  what  labor  is, 

For  it  has  stooped  our  bodies, 

Crushed  our  souls — 

But  what  is  this  thing  you  call  joy1? 

Whence  comes  this  strange  and  shuddering  sound 
That  wails  throughout  the  blackness  *? 
It  is  the  voice  of  Labor 
Crying  for  the  lost  joy. 


47 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 


AN  ANSWER 

The  world  is  beautiful  for  you.  The  sky  is  soft 
and  blue.  The  air  is  clean  and  full  of  fragrance. 

The  flowers  grow  for  you — white  lilies,  blood-red 
roses,  gentle  violets,  orange  flowers,  and  all  the  others 
that  you  love. 

The  trees  are  tall  and  strong  for  you — the  sun  has 
turned  their  leaves  to  silver. 

The  waters  ripple  for  you,  and  the  great  ocean 
breaks  its  waves,  for  you,  against  the  shore. 

The  white  magnetic  moon  rises  for  you.  For  you 
the  stars  come  dancing  one  by  one. 

For  you  the  birds  sing.  For  you  the  air  is  vibrant 
with  their  songs. 

For  you  all  love  and  gladness  wait.  For  you,  for 
you  the  world  is  beautiful. 


You  say  the  world  is  beautiful  for  me*? 

But  I — I  toil  in  a  dark  factory  year  by  year. 

There  are  no  flowers  here  nor  any  birds.  And 
when  the  moon  comes  out  at  night  I  close  my  eyes,  they 
are  so  hot  and  full  of  pain. 

I  hear  the  ceaseless  shudder  of  the  wheels. 

The  air  I  breathe  is  full  of  dirt  and  smoke. 

And  as  for  your  great  ocean — how  can  I  who  have 
not  seen  it  understand? 

You  speak  of  love  and  gladness — what  is  that? 

Your  world  it  may  be  beautiful.  But  ours  is  full 
of  darkness  and  of  pain. 

Your  world  it  may  be  beautiful — but  not  for  those 
who  struggle  in  the  shadows  for  a  crust ! 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 


THE  SHADOW 

I  walked  upon  the  city  streets. 

It  was  night. 

Behind  the  plate  glass  windows  there  were  gorge 
ous  displays;  beautiful  clothing,  silks,  laces,  evening 
gowns,  satins,  bon-bons,  flowers — myriads  of  things, 
all  evidence  of  great  wealth. 

Electric  lights  glittered  and  shone. 

Elegantly  gowned  people  passed,  or  stepped  from 
luxurious  limousines. 

Cafes  with  their  music  and  light,  and  moving  pic 
ture  shows  with  their  music  and  light,  sparkled  in 
vitingly. 

Theartres  and  other  places  of  amusement  opened 
their  doors  to  the  crowds  without. 

People  laughed  and  talked  gaily. 

Expensive  automobiles  drew  up  to  curbings. 
Lounging  within  them  were  well-fed  men  and  beauti 
ful  women. 

Everywhere  there  was  light  and  music  and  laugh 
ter  and  evidence  of  great  wealth. 

I  walked  slowly  amid  the  hurrying  crowd,  observ 
ing  all. 

I  noted  the  gorgeous  displays  behind  the  plate- 
glass  windows. 

I  noted  the  glitter  of  the  lights. 

I  noted  the  huge  buildings  which  towered  toward 
the  sky. 

I  watched  the  elegantly  gowned  people  as  they 
passed  or  stepped  from  luxurious  limousines. 

I  observed  the  lure  of  the  cafes  and  places  of 
amusement. 

I  heard  the  laughter  and  the  gay  chatter. 
49 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

I  gazed  upon  the  expensive  automobiles  with  their 
well-fed  men  and  beautiful  women. 

I  was  impressed  by  the  evidence  of  great  wealth. 

Then — I  saw  seated  in  a  doorway,  with  outstretch 
ed  hand,  a  woman  dressed  in  black.  : 

She  was  old.    Her  face  was  pale  and  thin ; 

But  she  was  trying  to  sing  with  an  aged  and  shat 
tered  voice. 

Nobody  noticed  her. 

Amid  the  laughter  and  light  and  gorgeous  dis 
plays  ;  amid  the  evidence  of  great  wealth — she  was 
alone. 

And  her  little  dark-clad  figure  cast  a  shadow  on 
the  ground — a  black,  fearful,  ominous  shadow. 

It  seemed  to  grow  larger  and  blacker  and  more 
ominous  until  it  darkened  the  whole  scene  of  light  and 
laughter. 

The  shadow  of  the  lonely  woman,  begging  and  des 
olate  amid  the  evidence  of  great  wealth,  expanded, 
grew  blacker,  more  ominous,  until  it  darkened  all. 

And  as  I  watched — the  shadow  fell  upon  my  soul. 

Oh,  the  Shadow  is  with  me  always.  I  cannot  es 
cape  it. 

It  is  not  merely  the  Shadow  cast  by  one  lonely 
woman,  desolate  and  begging  amid  the  evidence  of 
great  wealth. 

It  is  the  Shadow  of  all  the  useless  wretchedness 
and  poverty  and  agony  that  exist. 

It  is  the  Shadow  cast  by  the  child-slaves  as  they 
grind  their  young  souls  to  dust. 

It  is  the  Shadow  cast  by  the  young  girl  who  sells 
her  womanhood  for  bread. 

It  is  the  Shadow  cast  by  the  workers  who  toil  and 
toil  and  toil,  like  mere  machines,  shut  out  from  all  the 
joy  and  loveliness  of  life. 

50 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

It  is  the  Shadow  cast  by  poverty  and  pain. 
It  is  the  Shadow  cast  by  foul  disease. 
It  is  a  dark  and  fearful  thing,  made  possible  by 
ignorance  and  greed. 

And  it  is  with  me  always ;  I  cannot  escape  it. 

When  I  walk  in  the  sunshine,  singing,  with  those 
I  love,  behold  it  is  there. 

It  shuts  off  the  light.     It  darkens  everything. 

Our  songs  cease.    We  walk  away — silent. 

When  I  try  to  eat,  it  stands  beside  me. 

With  famished  eyes  it  glares  at  me  from  out  its 
bony  countenance. 

My  bread  is  turned  to  dust;  my  drink  is  turned  to 
blood. 

I  choke  and  turn  away  filled  with  unutterable 
agony. 

When  I  open  my  books  it  stares  at  me  from  out 
their  pages. 

The  sound  of  music  comes  to  me  mingled  with  its 
hideous  laugh. 

It  stands  between  me  and  all  joy  and  beauty. 

Oh,  it  is  with  me  always !     I  cannot  escape  it. 
Even  in  my  sleep  it  will  not  let  me  be. 

It  comes  to  me  within  my  dreams — black,  horrible, 
ominous. 

I  hear  its  fearful,  cackling  laugh.  Its  starved 
eyes  glare  at  me  with  deadly  gaze. 

It  presses  cruel  fingers  on  my  heart — and  crushes  it. 

Its  clammy  mouth  is  fastened  upon  mine,  drawing 
my  breath. 

I  seem  to  smother. 

Then  I  wake  with  a  wild  shriek,  shuddering  and 
cold. 

Oh,  God,  I  am  mad — the  Shadow  has  darkened  my 
soul! 

51 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 


THE  WHITE  HOPE 

(A  Sequel  to  the  Shadow) 

Grieve  not,  my  child,  that  the  Shadow  has  fallen  upon 

thy  soul ; 
For  it  must  fall  upon  the  souls  of  all  who  think  and 

love. 
Let  it  not  darken  thee,  but  seek  within  it  the  White 

Hope. 

For  even  as  the  blossoms  and  the  leaves  of  Spring 
Are  folded  in  the  gray,  bare  trees  of  Winter ; 
So  in  the  struggle  and  the  pain  of  things 
Emancipation  waits. 

And  thru  the  darkness  of  the  Shadow 
Shines  the  White  Hope. 
Men  do  not  see  it — for  most  men  are  blind ; 
But  all  who  seek  may  find. 

My  child,  strive  not  to  lift  the  Shadow  from  thy  soul 

alone ; 

For  it  has  fallen  on  the  race — 
And  from  the  race  it  must  be  lifted. 
Seek  not  the  White  Hope  for  thy  self  alone, 
Or  thou  wilt  never  find  it. 
And  grieve  not  because  the  Shadow  falls  upon  thy 

soul. 

For  those  who  have  the  Vision  and  the  Dream 

Have  wept  within  the  Shadow  tears  of  blood. 

And    those    whose    souls    have    soared    to    the    White 

Heights 

Have  fallen  deepest  in  the  Dark  Abyss ; 
And  mounted  on  their  crosses  to  the  stars. 

52 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

Weep  not,  Beloved,  lift  thine  eyes, 
The  White  Hope  shines  magnetic  thru  the  night; 
And  when  its  light  illuminates  the  souls  of  men — 
Then  shall  the  Shadow  cease  forevermore. 

Jl 

ABANDONMENT 

Let  good  women  love  with  calmness  and  caution; 
I  will  love  with  all  the  passion  of  my  pent  up  soul. 

When  the  love  of  a  woman,  such  as  I,  bursts  forth, 
The  laws  and  conventions  of  man 
Pale  like  street  lamps  in  the  sunlight. 

I  will  toss  myself  to  you 

As  a  young  girl  would  toss  a  rose  from  out  her  hair. 

Open  your  heart  to  me,  Beloved, 
Do  not  let  me  fall  into  the  dust ! 

«£       . 

THE  TREE  THAT  WITHHELD  ITS 
FRUIT 

There  was  a  tree  which  bore  fruit; 
And  those  who  passed  near  it  ate  of  it,  and  were  glad. 
But  one  day  the  tree  said : 

"Why  should  I  bear  fruit  for  others,  and  give  it  with 
out  return*? 
Henceforth  I  will  keep  it  to  myself." 

And  the  tree  withheld  its  fruit,  giving  it  to  no  one. 
And  the  passersby  were  sad. 

And  the  tree  became  barren. 

( 

And  behold  the  gardener  passed  that  way, 
And  laid  the  ax  at  the  root  of  it, 
And  it  fell  to  the  earth. 

53 


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WHO  WILL  UNDERSTAND? 

I  have  scorched  these  songs  with  tears, 
I  have  written  them  with  blood, 
Who  will  understand  them? 

I  have  broken  my  heart  on  the  stones 
That  its  music  might  be  free, 
But  the  songs  are  wild  and  strange. 
Who  will  understand  them*? 

I  have  sinned  and  suffered  all, 
I  have  traded  my  life  for  a  reed, 
Now  when  I  play  upon  it 
Who  will  understand  it"? 

Jl 

THE  SERPENT 

More  deadly  than  the  smallpox,   leprosy,  or  all  the 

plagues, 
More  to  be  feared  than  wild  beasts  from  the  jungle  red 

with  rage, 

More  loathesome  than  all  loathesome  things, 
Is  the  vile  seducer  of  young  women. 

Prince  of  all  serpents  he, 

Poisoning  where'er  he  goes, 

Crawling  in  honeyed  filth, 

He  hides  his  sores  with  intellect  and  gentle  words, 

The  stench  of  his  foul  rotting  soul,  with  perfume. 

Oh !  God  that  he  should  coil  among  the  flowers, 
Leaving  slime  upon  their  petals ! 


54 


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SONG  OF  LIBERTY 

When  you  tore  me  from  my  comrades  and  my  lovers 

And  placed  upon  my  wrists  the  iron  handcuffs ; 

When  the  great  iron  door  swung  to  after  me, 

And  the  great  iron  key  turned  in  the  lock, 

And  I  was  caged  within  the  dark  and  silent  jail — 

Then  you  exulted,  and  cried  loudly,  saying, 

"See  how  we  have  bound  her ; 

Tomorrow  we  will  lead  her  forth  to  death." 

And  do  you  think  I  fear  to  die,  Oh  Masters — 

I  who  have  died  so  many  deaths'? 

And  do  you  think  that  when  you  have  led  me  to  the 

electric  chair 

And  have  done  to  me  your  utmost 
That  I  will  be  dead? 

When  you  broke  my  body  upon  the  cross 
And  pierced  me  with  the  torturing  nails, 
You  tho't  that  you  had  killed  me — 
But  I  am  not  dead. 

When  you  led  me  forth  in  the  early  morning, 

In  the  cold  gray  stillness, 

And  fastened  on  my  neck  the  brutal  rope ; 

When  you  had  choked  my  breath  out 

And  I  lay  cold  and  silent — 

You  tho't  that  you  had  conquered. 

When  my  head  rolled  from  the  guillotine 

You  laughed — 

Believing  you  were  triumphant. 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

But  still  I  live,  Oh  Masters, 

I  still  live  to  defy  you — 

To  hurl  my  wild  defiance  in  your  teeth. 

You  cannot  kill  me  with  your  ropes  and  knives ; 

You  cannot  hold  me  with  your  iron  chains. 

You  may  break  my  body — 
But  you  cannot  break  my  soul ; 
You  may  bind  my  hands  and  feet — 
But  my  spirit  still  is  free. 

I  live  forever  to  defy  you ; 

Forever  to  defy  till  I  defeat — 

And  with  each  death  the  Vision  grows. 

I  refuse  to  bow  before  you,  you  Masters,  you  Mighty, 

I  refuse  to  be  humbled  at  your  feet. 

What  have  I  to  do  with  you,  and  your  laws,  creeds, 

conventions  ? 
They  are  as  dust. 
Only  Liberty  is  sacred,  and  Love; 
Only  my  comrades  are  sacred — 
And  you  have  trampled  them  under  foot. 

Oh  tremble,  you  Masters,  you  Mighty, 

You  think  your  power  great — 

But  it  is  little  compared  to  me. 

You  think  that  you  are  strong — 

But  I  am  stronger. 

You  think  you  can  defeat  me,  bind  me,  slay  me — 

But  I  am  the  Unconquerable/ 

Oh  tremble,  you  Masters,  you  Mighty, 

Triumphant  Liberty,  at  last, 

Shall  rise  upon  the  carcasses  of  kings 

And  hurl  her  victory  song  across  the  worlds ! 

56 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 


WHEN  I  AM  DEAD 

When  I  am  dead,  scatter  my  ashes  to  the  winds,  and 

do  not  mourn. 
Upon  the  highest  peak  of  yonder  mount,  empty  the 

urn; 
I  would  not  lie  in  the  damp  earth,  a  food  for  sickly 

worms ; 

Nor  would  I  soar  into  the  clouds  with  silver  wings. 
I  shall  be  one  with  the  great  elements,  the  sea,  the 

winds ; 

My  soul  shall  permeate  all  things. 
I  shall  be  one  with  life ! 

Why  should  you  mourn  or  scatter  lovely  flowers  o'er 

my  clay*? 

Or  dress  it  up  in  costly  burial  robes  *? 
(A  living  child  weeps  thru  the  dusk  in  rags.) 

Would  you  seek  me  *?   Look  not  in  the  damp  earth ; 

Nor  to  the  realms  above — I  am  not  there. 

I  linger  in  the  trees  amid  their  shimmering  greens ; 

I  bloom  within  the  violet's  heart; 

I  glow  in  the  warm  sunshine; 

My  soul  speaks  to  you  thru  babies'  eyes. 

I  wander  with  the  lovers  in  the  Spring. 

I  toil  with  the  strong  ploughman  in  the  field. 

I  laugh  with  the  young  school  boys  at  their  play. 

I  dwell  within  the  poems  that  you  read, 

The  music  that  you  hear, 

The  thoughts  you  think,  the  scenes  on  which  you  gaze. 

I  am  a  part  of  you — a  part  of  all  that  lives  and  is. 

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[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

I  am  not  dead ;  I  have  but  changed  my  form 
For  one  more  beautiful ! 

Jl 

LIGHT  IS 

From  my  long  agony  and  tears 
I  have  arisen,  pointing  to  the  path. 
I  cannot  lead  thee — take  my  hand. 

From  my  long  agony  and  tears 

I  have  arisen,  crying  thru  the  worlds, 

Light  is — Why  closest  thou  thine  eyes'? 

From  my  long  agony  and  tears 

I  have  arisen,  casting  back  the  bonds 

That  held  my  soul  in  tortures — I  am  free. 

Jl 

UNFINISHED 

Poets  have  carefully  carved  their  songs, 
Toiling  with  words,  phrases,  stanzas, 
Till  all  was  finished. 
But  I  do  not  carefully  carve  my  songs, 
Toiling  with  words,  phrases,  stanzas, 
And  all  that  I  leave  is  unfinished — 

That  you  shall  be  a  poet, 
Finishing  each  according  to  yourself. 


58 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems} 


THE  CROSS 

There  was  a  man  who  carried  upon  his  shoulders  a 
heavy  cross. 

Tho  the  shoulders  of  the  man  were  strong,  the  cross 
was  so  heavy  that  it  bowed  him  to  the  dust. 

People  passed  him  on  the  Highway,  laughing  and 
dancing,  for  their  crosses  were  light. 

But  the  man  with  the  heavy  cross  plodded  slowly 
in  the  dust. 

And  he  cried  aloud,  saying: 

"Why  should  I  stagger  beneath  this  heavy  cross, 
while  others  on  the  Highway  dance  by  me  laughing  *? 

I,  too,  would  dance  and  laugh,  but  alas,  I  cannot. 

Oh  it  is  cruel  and  unfair  that  I  should  bear  this 
cross,  which  is  heavier  than  all  other  crosses  in  the 
world." 

The  man  was  very  sad  ;  and  the  tears  that  he  wept 
were  of  blood. 

But  one  night  an  angel  appeared  to  him  and  said  : 

"Why  dost  thou  not  plant  thy  cross  ? 

It  was  not  meant  to  weigh  upon  thy  shoulders." 

And  the  man  planted  his  cross. 

And  lo  !  it  blossomed  into  a  ladder  of  shining  gold 
on  which  he  mounted  to  the  stars/ 


THERE  WAS  A  MAN 

There  was  a  man  who  was  a  philosopher  and  a 
dreamer. 

He  started  to  climb  the  side  of  a  tall  mountain, 
thinking  he  would  find  wonderful  flowers  at  the  top. 

Tirelessly  he  toiled  upward,  with  eyes  for  nothing 
but  the  distant  mountain  top. 

He  did  not  see  the  beauty  of  the  flowers  which  grew 
59 


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around  his  path,  but  crushed  them  with  hasty  feet. 

He  did  not  see  the  glory  of  the  sunset  and  the 
sunrise  ;  he  did  not  listen  to  the  voices  which  called  to 
him  as  he  passed. 

But  he  hurried  on  with  eyes  only  for  the  distant 
mountain  top,  thinking  of  the  wonderful  flowers  which 
he  felt  must  grow  there. 

At  last,  after  he  had  become  an  old  man,  he  reach 
ed  the  top. 

But  there  was  not  a  single  flower  there  —  only  ice 
and  snow  and  a  Great  Silence. 

When  the  man  saw  he  cried  aloud  with  agony. 

And  for  the  first  time  he  thought  of  the  flowers  he 
had  passed  by  so  hurriedly. 

But  he  could  not  return  to  them. 

And  his  sobs  were  lost  in  the  Great  Silence. 


AND  THEN  -- 

My  soul  is  singing,  singing.  . 

Oh  I  am  mad  with  the  joy  of  life.  It  is  sunset  ;  the 
glory  of  it  pervades  everything  ;  it  goes  into  my  blood  ; 
I  am  filled  with  it. 

The  charm  of  the  evening  enfolds  me. 

Surely  to  be  young  and  alive  at  such  an  hour  is 
enough. 

My  being  vibrates  with  ecstacy. 

I  lift  my  soul  in  a  mad  song  of  joy. 

And  then  - 

A  fellow  being  passes  dressed  in  rags. 

The  discordant  noises  of  the  city  smite  my  ears. 

I  hear  the  cry  of  a  little  child. 

And  my  song  ends  in  a  sob  ;  and  I  am  silent  —  filled 
with  the  sorrows  of  the  world. 


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THE  SLAVE 

I  am  a  slave. 

I  toil  and  toil  and  toil;  and  eat  and  sleep  that  I 
may  toil  again. 

My  hands  are  hard  and  shapeless. 

My  eyes  are  dull  and  they  have  lost  the  dream. 

The  song  within  my  soul  is  dead. 

I  toil  and  toil  and  toil  !  and  joy  for  me  is  not. 

I  am  a  slave.  I  am  a  thing  that  moves  and  acts 
like  a  machine. 

My  soul  has  never  soared  to  the  white  heights 
of  inspiration. 

Love,  music,  beauty  —  if  they  are  —  exist  within  a 
world  that  shuts  me  out. 

I  am  a  slave. 

I  cannot  even  think  —  for  when  I  think  I  shall  no 
longer  be  a  slave. 


A  PANE  OF  GLASS 

It  is  night. 

He  paces  the  brightly  lighted  streets  in  front  of  the 
shop  windows. 

He  is  thin  and  ragged  and  his  stomach  is  empty. 

He  has  not  eaten  for  three  days. 

He  gazes  at  food  behind  the  plate  glass,  and  eyes 
it  hungrily. 

He  gazes  at  warm  clothing  and  shivers. 

He  gazes  at  jewels  and  gold  and  knows  he  has  not 
the  price  of  a  bed. 

He  paces  on,  hungry,  cold,  ragged  and  wretched. 

Yet  between  him  and  the  things  which  are  neces 
sary  to  his  life  stands  only  a  pane  of  glass. 


61 


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THE  SEA 

Blue  is  the  sea  and  bright. 

Full  it  is  of  gladness  and  of  joy. 

The  great  waves  dash  in  laughing  whiteness  on  the 
shore. 

The  waters  stretch  in  peaceful,  endless  calm. 

The  rippling  waves  are  silvered  with  the  sun. 

Oh  calm  and  lovely  Sea,  how  beautiful  thou  art ! 

I  sit  and  watch  thee,  filled  with  joyous  peace. 

I  long  to  dance  with  thy  bright  waves,  to  glide  on 
thy  glad  waters,  to  play  with  thee,  for  thou  art  kind. 

Oh  Sea,  I  love  thee  so ! 

The  sun  has  gone. 

The  sea  is  dark  and  gray. 

It  stretches  its  dull  shape  to  meet  the  darkening 
clouds — no  darker  than  itself. 

And  sea  and  sky  are  mingled  in  a  deadening  mist. 

The  black  waves  break  upon  the  rocks. 

The  mournful  sound  of  them  fills  me  with  dread. 

The  darkness  covers  us. 

The  dampness  chills  my  blood. 

I  hear  the  ceaseless  sounding  of  the  waves. 

Is  that  a  dead  face  there  amid  the  rocks  ? 

Is  that  a  white  face  here  where  all  is  black  *? 

Oh  pitiless  and  cruel  Sea!    I   am  afraid — I   am 
afraid ! 

jl 

THE  MAN  AND  THE  MIRROR 

The  Giver  of  All  gave  to  the  man  a  mirror,  and 
said  : 

"Thou  wilt  see  only  what  is  reflected  in  it,  turn  it 
where  you  will." 

The  man  turned  the  mirror  upward,  and  was  joy 
ful,  seeing  the  stars. 

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He  turned  it  downward,  and  the  mirror  reflected 
mud,  stagnant  things,  foulness. 

And,  because  the  man  loved  the  stars,  he  turned  it 
upward  again.  But  the  mirror  was  clouded  with  the 
black  breath  of  sin — and  reflected  nothing. 

When  the  man  could  not  see  the  stars,  tho  he  held 
his  mirror  upward,  he  was  filled  with  great  agony,  and 
cried  out,  saying: 

"Oh  woe  is  me !  woe  is  me !  The  stars  are  dead ! 
The  stars  are  dead !" 

He  rent  his  garments,  and  his  tears  were  of  blood. 

Then  the  Giver  of  All  came  to  the  man  and  said : 

"Foolish  one,  cry  not  that  the  stars  are  dead.  Clean 
thy  mirror/'' 

Jfl 

THE  ROSE  BUSH 

There  was  a  rose  bush  once,  that  had  never  borne  a 
single  flower. 

People  said  to  the  master  of  the  garden :  "Why  do 
you  not  pull  it  up*? 

It  only  mars  the  beauty  of  your  garden." 

But  the  master  of  the  garden  smiled  and  watered 
the  rose  bush  more  carefully  and  loved  it  more  ten 
derly  than  all  the  other  flowers. 

And  after  many  years  the  rose  bush  put  forth  a  sin 
gle  bud. 

And  the  bud  grew  until  one  day  it  burst  into 
a  flower  of  such  marvelous  beauty  that  the  like  of  it 
had  never  been  seen  in  all  the  world  before. 

And  the  people  came  from  afar  to  gaze  upon  it. 

When  they  beheld  it,  they  laughed  with  joy,  and  a 
new  light  shone  from  their  faces. 

Soon  after  the  rose  bush  had  put  forth  this  mar 
velous  flower  it  curled  up  its  leaves  and  died. 

But  the  flower  lived  forever  in  the  hearts  of  men! 

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THE  WOMAN  BY  THE  SEA 

I  saw  a  woman  standing  by  the  sea  with  outstretch 
ed  hands,  welcoming  the  world. 

There  were  jewels  upon  her  forehead  and  her 
throat;  there  were  jewels  upon  her  fingers  and  her 
wrists. 

She  was  sprinkled  with  rare  perfumes,  and  covered 
with  costly  cosmetics. 

Upon  her  body  were  satins  and  fine  linen  and  er 
mine.  Upon  her  feet  were  sandals  of  gold. 

People  came  from  afar  to  look  at  her;  and  they 
cried  with  loud  voices : 

"Oh  beautiful  is  the  woman  who  stands  by  the  sea ! 

Oh  beautiful  is  the  woman  who  welcomes  the 
world!" 

And  they  gazed  at  the  jewels  upon  her  forehead 
and  her  wrists,  and  upon  the  satins  and  ermine  which 
enfolded  her. 

Slowly  I  approached  the  woman. 

Her  jewels  dazzled  me. 

The  cries  of  the  people  impressed  me. 

But  when  I  came  near  to  her  I  saw  that  her  face 
was  eaten  away  by  leprosy. 

And  her  body  was  covered  with  sores  that  dripped 
upon  the  ground. 

With  a  wild  shriek  I  turned  and  ran  into  the  night. 

But  the  voices  of  the  people  followed  me,  crying : 

"Oh  beautiful  is  the  woman  who  stands  by  the  sea ! 

Oh  beautiful  is  the  woman  who  welcomes  the 
world !" 


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THE  NIGHT 

Dark  is  the  night !  ah,  very,  very  dark ! 

The  stars  have  all  burnt  out. 

And  there  is  only  blackness. 

Then  cries  of  hungry  beasts  come  to  us  thru  the 
gloom;  and  noise  of  fearful  conflict;  women's  sobs; 
and  strange,  inhuman  shrieks  of  pain. 

Then  stillness — and  the  deathly  darkness  covering 
us. 

We  struggle  in  the  shadows  and  we  fall. 

Our  feet  are  torn  and  wet  with  blood. 

And  all  about  is  the  fearful  night.  We  grope  and 
cannot  see. 

But,  Comrade,  in  this  awful  hour  of  strife,  let  us 
clasp  hands  and  speak  the  truth  we  know : 

"The  night  cannot  be  always ;  and  the  day  must 
break  with  joyful  glory  in  the  east." 

Beloved,  thru  the  darkness  and  the  gloom  I  hear 
the  morning  song  of  birds. 

ji 
THE  POT  THAT  HAD  BEEN  MARRED 

The  potter  marred  the  pot,  and  cast  it  aside  in  dis 
gust. 

Then  a  child  came  and  asked  for  it ; 

And  because  the  beauty  of  the  pot  was  marred  and 
it  could  never  hold  wine,  the  potter  gave  it. 

One  morning  the  potter  came  into  his  workshop 
and  saw  that  it  was  glorified  by  a  white  flower. 

As  his  eyes  rested  upon  the  flower,  he  was  trans 
figured. 

With  wild  joy  and  exaltation  he  fell  on  his  knees 
beside  it. 

Then  he  saw  that  it  was  growing  from  the  pot  that 
had  been  marred. 

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THE  WHITE  FLOWER 

There  was  a  man  who  loved  a  White-Flower  which 
grew  on  the  side  of  a  mountain. 

Its  beauty  illumined  his  soul. 

And  he  tried  to  explain  the  wonder  of  it  to  the  peo 
ple  who  lived  in  the  valley  below. 

But  they  had  never  seen  the  flower  and  they  could 
not  understand. 

One  day  a  herd  of  swine  climbed  the  mountainside. 

And  when  they  beheld  the  White-Flower  with  their 
little  eyes,  they  cried  disdainfully  to  the  man : 

"We  have  heard  you  talking  to  the  people  of  the 
wonder  of  your  flower. 

And  is  this  it*?    Bah! 

It  would  not  make  a  meal  for  an  ant. 

Let  us  taste  the  flavor  of  the  thing." 

And  they  tried  to  rush  upon  it  and  would  have  torn 
it  to  pieces. 

But  the  man  beat  them  back. 

The  swine  grunted  and  returned  to  their  mud. 

And  the  man  knelt  sadly  by  the  White-Flower  with 
eyes  turned  toward  the  stars ! 

£ 

THE  PRICE 

In  the  bright  sunlight  the  mighty  singer  stood  upon 
the  mountain  top;  and  his  voice  was  music  among  the 
hills.  When  the  people  heard  it,  they  were  filled  with 
ecstacy.  And  they  lifted  their  faces  upward. 

Amid  the  dark  rocks  of  the  mountains  toiled  a  pil 
grim,  till  at  last  he  stood  at  the  Master's  feet. 

Kneeling,  he  kissed  his  garment's  hem  and  ex 
claimed,  "Oh!  Master,  thy  voice  is  mightier  than  all 
other  voices  in  the  world! 

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When  the  people  hear  it,  they  turn  their  faces  up 
ward. 

I,  too,  would  sing  greatly  and  move  the  people 
toward  the  mountain  tops. 

Is  it  possible  that  such  another  voice  could  be  *?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Master. 

"Oh,  tell  me  how  has  it  been  possible?  I  would 
give  all  for  such  another  voice." 

"I  have  paid  for  it,"  replied  the  Master,  "a  great 
price." 

"Oh!  tell  me;  I  will  pay  all." 

"I  would  not  tell  thee,  pilgrim  ;  the  price  is  great  !" 

"Oh  !  tell  me  ;  I  will  pay  all  ;  there  is  no  price  too 
great." 

Then  the  Master  unloosened  his  garments  and 
showed  unto  the  pilgrim  his  many  wounds. 

When  the  pilgrim  beheld  them  he  turned  with  a 
wild  shriek  and  hid  himself  among  the  rocks. 


LAW 

God  gave  me  a  garden. 

I  planted  what  I  chose. 

For  each  flower  there  was  perfume  and  loveliness. 

For  each  tree  there  was  quiet  and  shade. 

God  gave  me  a  garden. 

I  planted  what  I  chose. 

Now  shall  I  cry  out  when  the  thistles  tear  me  and 
the  nettles  burn"? 

And  shall  my  tortured  soul  escape  the  deadly 
things  which  choke  it  *? 

Not  God  himself  can  save  me  now  from  my  vile 
harvest. 

And  I  must  reap  it  all  —  even  to  the  last  poison 
weed. 


67 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 


THE  FLOWER  OF  LOVE 

A  man  came  knocking  at  my  garden  gate  and  said, 
"Open!" 

"What  seek  you  *?"  I  replied. 

He  said,  "The  flower  of  love." 

"Oh !  I  have  many  flowers  of  love  within  my  gar 
den.  I  will  show  you  all." 

I  showed  him  all,  but  he  replied: 

"The  flower  I  seek  is  not  among  them. 

It  is  that  strange,  mysterious  flower  that  grows 
within  a  woman's  garden  when  the  light  of  her  mate 
shines  upon  her  soul. 

It  blooms  but  once.    Oh  give  it  to  me,  else  I  die !" 

But  I  replied,  "I  cannot  give  you  what  is  not." 

And  he  departed  with  sad  eyes. 

And  all  who  knocked  upon  my  garden  gate  depart 
ed  with  sad  eyes. 

Then  you  came  by  the  garden  wall  and  paused. 

I  ran  to  meet  you,  and  the  blossoms  fell  upon  our 
hair. 

With  one  deep  look  you  smote  my  soul  to  music 
and  to  fire. 

And  in  my  garden  was  a  strange,  rare  flower,  dark 
red,  with  all  the  fragrant  mystery  of  Spring. 

Within  it  pulsed  my  living  heart. 

Life  lingered  near  and  said,  "It  blooms  but  once." 

I  plucked  the  flower  and  flung  it  at  your  feet. 

Beloved,  wilt  thou  lift  it  to  the  light,  or  must  it 
wither  there  within  the  dust? 


68 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems'] 


WHERE  THE  SUN   SHINES  ALWAYS 
THERE  IS  A  DESERT 

No  Garden  grows  forever  in  the  sun. 

Dry  is  the  earth  and  bare  where  no  rain  falls  and 
waters  flow  not. 

Flowers  grow  not  there;  no  sweet  birds  sing;  and 
there  is  only  emptiness  and  waste. 

Dry  is  the  soul  and  bare  where  no  tears  fall  and 
sorrow  flows  not. 

Flowers  grow  not  there ;  no  sweet  birds  sing ;  and 
there  is  only  emptiness  and  waste. 

Perhaps   the   fairest   Gardens   have   been   watered 
with  the  saddest  tears ! 

Jl 

FAITH 

My  Comrade,  I  love  you,  I  believe  in  you. 
Others  have  doubted  you,  but  I  do  not  doubt  you. 
Others  have  failed  to  understand  you, 
But  my  love  is  too  great  to  fail  in  understanding. 
Always  I  believe  in  you. 
Always  I  am  near  you. 

Always  my  love  and  my  faith  surround  you ; 
With  gentle,  unbreakable  threads  they  hold  you  for 
ever. 

If  you  go  to  the  far  hills 

And  are  lost  in  the  vast  silence — 

I  am  there. 

If  you  go  to  the  great  city 

And  are  torn  with  the  pain  and  the  struggle — 

I  am  there. 

If  you  follow  the  stars  to  the  edge  of  the  world — 

I  am  there. 

69 


[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  other  Poems] 

And  if  you  journey  to  strange  worlds,  o'er  unknown 

seas  and  pathless  wastes — 
I  am  still  there. 
It  is  impossible  to  escape  me. 

Always  I  love  you,  always  I  believe  in  you. 
When  you  are  torn  and  tortured ; 
And  the  struggle  seems  too  great; 
When  others  doubt  you; 

And  the  black  hour  comes  when  you,  too,  doubt  your 
self— 

I  believe  in  you. 
Oh  then  I  believe  in  you  supremely. 

I  know  you  will  not  yield. 

I  know  you  will  not  be  subdued. 

I  know  you  will  surmount  all. 

If  you  are  weak — my  faith  shall  give  you  strength. 
If  you  are  sad — my  faith  shall  give  you  joy. 
Amid  the  dark  my  faith  shall  give  you  hope. 

No  harm  can  touch  you ; 

No  evil  come  near  you ; 

For  always  my  love  protects  you ; 

And  always  my  faith  sustains  you. 

Forever  and  forever  it  is  so. 

And  if  your  soul,  in  blindness, 

Should  fall  to  the  deeps  of  hell, 

My  faith  would  save  you — even  there. 


70 


OUT  OF  CHAOS 

I  sit  alone  and  gaze  over  the  world, 

I  see  Europe  ravaged  by  the  Fiend  of  War. 

I  see  the  whole  world  tremble  'neath  its  feet. 

I  see  the  men  of  Germany  hating  the  men  of  England. 

I  see  the  men  of  England  hating  the  men  of  Germany. 

I  see  them  butchering  each  other  upon  the  bloody 
fields ; 

Dropping  bombs  upon  each  other ; 

Killing  each  other  with  poisonous  gases. 

I  see  the  men  in  the  submarines  sinking  the  huge  ves 
sels. 

I  see  the  people  leap  into  the  black  water — and  dis 
appear. 

I  see  the  race  warring  against  itself 

With  all  the  hellish  cruelty  of  civilization. 

Each  nation  prays  unto  its  God  for  victory. 

I  see  the  harvest  of  the  thing  called  Patriotism 
Which  was  planted  in  the  human  heart  as  good — 
But  which  yields  only  race  hatred,  murder,  cruelty, 
bestiality,  ignorance. 

I  see  the  harvest  of  the  thing  called  Nationalism 
Which  sets  the  nations  at  each  other's  throats. 

I  sit  alone  and  gaze  over  the  world, 

Filled  with  unutterable  anguish,  dumb  with  pain. 


71 


)  ;  »  •  '•'„;;  o  "  «;?  2     *   ™        » 
[A  WOMAN  FREE  and  •otter  P^em] 

I  sit  alone  and  gaze  over  the  world. 

And  then  my  soul  is  lifted  in  a  mighty  shout 

Prophetic  of  the  unity  of  man. 

*        *        * 

I  am  a  child  of  the  world. 

I  owe  allegiance  to  no  country    more    than    another 

country ; 

To  no  flag  more  than  another  flag; 
The  boundary  of  no  nation  hems  me  in; 
And  I  love  no  race  of  people  more  than  another  race 

of  people. 

All  humanity  to  me  is  sacred, 
And  all  humanity  is  one. 

(Shall  the  head  be  at  war  with  the  feet; 
And  the  hands  seek  to  tear  out  the  heart ; 
And  the  organism  thru  ignorance  destroy  itself?) 

Oh  a  man  is  a  man ! 

He  is  sacred  and  marvelous. 

It  matters  not  where  he  was  born ; 

Or  the  language  that  he  speaks. 

His  blood  is  precious. 

His  flesh  is  wonderful. 

He  is  the  child  of  God. 

I  refuse  to  be  robbed  of  my  sanity. 
I  refuse  to  murder  my  brother — who  is  part  of  my 
self. 

I  extend  my  hands  to  him  saying, 
"You  are  my  comrade  and  I  love  you." 


THE  END 


72 


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I»»Y    5    1932 


75m-8,'31 


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364311 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


